The True Beginning of the Story

The Country Club
and an Irish Party, 15 March 2014

I was sick in early February, and then I fell in late February of this year. I landed on the back of my head first, and the rest of my body followed. No broken bones and no brain bleed, but it took a few weeks for me to feel "right" again. I've never hit my head that hard, and I'm lucky--I hear--that I didn't damage anything.

During that time, I realized my mother's journey began in March of 2013, so I took it easy and gathered Facebook memories and stories I had created about her journey every day, missing only one day. Finally, today I found the true beginning of the story, where mom was admitted to the hospital with jaundice and was unable to digest food. To be clear, that was 15 March 2013. I was still in Kentucky at the time, but I had threatened her earlier in the year (it may have been the end of 2012, actually) that I would come to Virginia if she didn't stop losing weight. She didn't want me. But, a hospital visit? I had to make plans.

I had already heard from someone that morning that she had a blockage in her bile duct, which explained the jaundice. She wasn't in pain, but she had been very tired. And, a blockage also explained that she wasn't able to digest food. For some reason, the doctors at the hospital decided to cut into her to examine her bile duct. I guess they felt they couldn't see anything with a CAT scan? I didn't receive an answer to that question. This was a Friday, and we weren't expecting pathology reports back until Monday.

Cora, my daughter, was available, so we planned to drive to Virginia the next day for a few days to see what we could learn. Mom hadn't seen Cora in ages, so we figured that her visit might lift her spirits and help her get over the fact that I would also be in the room. My mother could be antagonistic with me if I was simply breathing the same air.

_____

One year later, on 15 March 2014, I managed to get two hours away from my parents and go out with two distant cousins to celebrate St. Patrick's day. We had a great time, and it was good for me to get out of the house. I could never relax, though. Every time I tried to leave, my mother would blow a stent, suddenly have a 104° fever, or throw up everything she had eaten that day. I never did get far or for too long, so that night was a pleasant one for me.

It's good to be writing this story again. Sometimes it's difficult, because my memories are still so fresh about so many details. But, I also feel I'm putting some things to bed, and that feels liberating.

A Visit from Former Neighbors, 2014

The hospital released mom five days prior to this day in 2014, and mom was still recovering from her bouts of cellulitis and fevers from infections when we heard a knock at the door. I answered, and three strange (to me) elderly women and men stood there asking if mom was home. As soon as my mother heard their voices, she was up and shuffling into the foyer to greet the women and their husbands, who turned out to be former friends and neighbors of hers from South Carolina. My parents lived in South Carolina during the 1980s, so they last saw each other almost three decades before this visit.

The women had decided among themselves that they were going to travel to Virginia to see mom for the last time. They had a few plans up their sleeves, and once they settled in for the visit, one of the women approached me to tell me they were intent on cooking breakfast for mom the next morning. They had booked hotel rooms, and they were going out to eat with their husbands that evening. They spent several hours with mom until they saw she was fading. 

I took the photo shown here and I obscured her friends' faces. One, because I don't know if they're still alive; and two, because I haven't received permission from them to show their images, even if I knew how to get in touch with them. I wanted to tell my mother she shouldn't wear green, as that outfit seemed to match her complexion that day. But, I wanted her to be happy, and she was beside herself. I think she knew, deep in her heart, that she had some loyal fans somewhere on this continent.

The next morning, the three woman arrived at 9 a.m. to cook for mom, and mom was shocked. She was still floating on the visit the previous day, and had no clue they were arriving again to cook an omelette for her, something she was craving (that was my tip to her friends the previous day).

I stood by to tell the women where to find certain items, and I think--but I'm not sure--that I set the table. I don't remember, either, if dad put the leaf in the table to extend it to seat more people. I was just busy watching mom and tending to her friends, so I'm glad I took that one photo to help jog my memory about my mother's reactions. I think I took another photo of her friends in that tiny kitchen, jostling for space, but I remember it being a dark photo, too dark to use for anything other than memories. I don't even remember if their husbands came with them or not.

I just remember that this event was a great memory for mom, and I think this visit was the best thing to happen to her since she was first diagnosed. My heart goes out to these women, still unknown to me, to thank them for what they did.

The Hospital Releases Mom

 

On this day in 2014, mom was allowed to return home from the hospital after being in their bed for ten full days. We really didn't expect a release until Monday, as this hospital wasn't fond of releasing patients on weekends. Today in 2014 was a Saturday, and mom was released in the early evening...another oddity.

The doctors had put her on oxygen, as her oxygen levels were low. This situation occurs many times for long-term patients and/or those patients who suffer from lowered immune systems or failing organs. I think we all learned a lot about oxygen levels during the COVID pandemic in 2020.

I wrote that the transition to hospice would begin Sunday morning at 10 am., an appointment that will assess mom's home situation and to conduct patient intake. This is when the real journey begins, as every day was a challenge between my mother had her mercurial attitudes (which she had all her life, not just with the experience of dying), and with learning new medical procedures that I would need to conduct should hospice be unavailable for any reason.

I still have the memory of mom leaving the hospital. It was cold outside, and the nurses brought two blankets from the hospital, which I still have. Those are some great quality blankets right there.